Between Two Lungs
by SecretForKeeps
Summary: Written for dragonbeak on tumblr. Shydeman works for Nadil, who owns a small record label. Fedelta is a poor musician who only cares about his guitar and his smokes. Rock bands, cigarettes, and making out in a taxi cab. Shydeman/Fedelta AU


This was written at the request of the winner of my tumblr challenge, beakyreplies. The request was vague, so I hope you like how this story turned out!

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><p>Shydeman stood by the window in his expensive and finely tailored suit, looking down at the view of the city. Sometimes he wondered why people placed so much value on such an expansive view. He was twenty stories up and could see for miles around, but he couldn't actually see much of anything, not really. He saw the tops of skyscrapers, windows that were empty and black by day, and the hazy smog of engine exhaust that inevitably fills the skies and lungs of every city dweller. It was a horrible view. The real view was the one down below, where the people and pedestrians walked by, going about their business, each one of them thinking their own life to be so important and meaningful. People were worth looking at. People were <em>interesting.<em>

There was a knock at his door. He did little more than incline his head as Shyrendora stepped into his office. She had long, pale blond hair, which was today piled onto her head in a tight bun and a pair of brand-name glasses were perched on her elegant nose, nearly identical to his own. Shydeman also had the same hair, as was to be expected considering the fact that they were twins. But unlike hers, he had never let it grow much farther than his shoulders and he never did anything other than pull it back into a ponytail. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to keep it long.

"Shydeman," she began, a statement rather than a question, as most people would have started hesitantly, implying that they were asking for his attention. But Shyrendora never asked. She demanded. "Kharl has arrived, to discuss the new products for the next year."

He rolled his eyes. He knew he would probably be rejecting nearly all of the engineer's new ideas, only for Kainaldia Co.'s CEO to veto his recommendations and go along with them anyway. Nadil often took too many risks, Shydeman thought. But he was the boss, and Shydeman would go along with the ideas until Nadil either fired him or got his head chopped off. It was bound to happen one of these days, considering how abrasive the man often was with the competition. The tabloids practically had a field day after their CEO very publicly propositioned the wife of his rival, the CEO of Dragoon Industries.

Following his sister, her heels tapping coldly on the linoleum floors. And who'd ever heard of an office with linoleum floors? Nadil probably just couldn't get marble, Shydeman thought with bitter humor.

The two of them entered the meeting room, sweeping in with cool confidence and grace. The twins made quite a sight alone, but together they were one of the most intimidating sights in the business.

Intimidating to anyone except for Kharl, that is. He was playing with a child's toy, trying to get a little plastic ball on a string to go in a cup. And failing. Garfakcy, his assistant, was sitting to his left, already taking notes on something, though on what, Shydeman couldn't possibly fathom. Garfakcy was always trying to please his boss, though he couldn't give a rat's ass about them.

"Oh, you're finally here!" stated Kharl, setting down his toy next to Garfakcy, as if offering him a turn. Despite Garfakcy's over-achieving nature, Kharl always had very low expectations of him. "I'm very excited to show you some of my new masterpieces." He held up a giant children's drawing pad. "Here's my first idea—I call it Mr. Death Die!"

Shydeman slid down into his seat and felt a migraine coming on. He should really remedy his earlier thought: People were interesting as long as he didn't have to actually interact with them.

* * *

><p>Fedelta adjusted his headphones and pulled down his hat even lower over his face. He didn't want to stand out or be particularly remembered by any of the bored-looking servers. He finished the last bite of his sandwich and then made a show of heading in the direction of the bathroom. When it seemed they weren't paying him any real mind, he doubled back and pushed his way out the double doors of the restaurant without so much as a second look.<p>

The red-haired young man let out a relieved exhale. He hated it when the "dash" part of "dine and dash" became literal. Once a persistent waiter ("Gow" his nametag had read, and wasn't that an unfortunate name?) had chased him down three blocks and didn't let up until Fedelta lost him in a crowd. But, he thought with a shrug of his shoulders, a man's gotta eat, but he's also got to pay rent. And this month he had just barely managed the latter.

He didn't much mind scraping by though—it made life more interesting. He enjoyed coming up with clever schemes to live as cheaply as possible. He was probably the only starving musician he knew who was actually liked being a starving musician.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a worn zippo lighter, lighting one up while he walked. Truthfully, he might have been able to afford to eat if he didn't pay so much for cigarettes, but he had to have his smokes. Idly blowing out a puff, he pretended to be oblivious to the woman who walked past him coughing pointedly and glaring at him, and watched as the smoke curled up into the air before it vanished. He loved smoke. And fire. Probably the only way he would ever give up smoking is if he could have a huge, grand fireplace of his very own. But that was a very big if.

He dropped by his tiny apartment to pick up his guitar—for once, his band had actually decided to practice that night, having gotten a real studio room to play in, and not just somebody's garage. Courtesy of Bierrez's girlfriend's father. Or so he had heard. He didn't actually much care, as long as he would finally be able to play his guitar properly, without the old lady next door banging on the wall and yelling for him to shut up.

He found the studio—Demonic Music was the name of the place—and made his way down the stairs to where the rest of the band was already setting up; the quiet Gil with his bass guitar, and the flamboyant Sabel at his drum set. Though Bierrez, their vocalist and the only straight man of the group, was sitting on the single leather couch present in the room, kissing a long-haired girl who was sat in his lap. He felt like he should remember her name, since she was the one who got them the studio and all, but he just couldn't bring it to mind.

"So good of you to join us, Fedelta!" Sabel called when he walked in.

"Piss off, Sabel. It's not like I'm actually late," was his reply. He and Sabel had been together once—it was very brief and very messy and neither of them ever brought it up again, though they were not above exchanging banter and insults at every opportunity.

"You might as well be, when you're the last one to get here."

He smirked. "At least I don't need a week in advance to do my hair."

"Hey!"

"Both of you, shut up!" shouted Bierrez from the couch, disengaging his lips for long enough to say, "We're all here now, so let's just get this done. We have a gig lined up for this weekend and a set list already planned out. We just have to be able to play the songs all the way through."

He stood up after giving his girlfriend (Cesia, that was her name) a last, quick kiss, and set up his microphone. Fedelta admired the way his long legs stretched out when he stood; it really was a bit of a shame that Bierrez wasn't gay. Gil was lovely too, but completely in love with his boyfriend—an older guy named Laamgarnas, who he'd never met, but might as well have been Superman for the way Gil talks about him.

But then Gil played the first chords of their first song and Sabel joined in on the drums. Bierrez sang the first line, low and deep, with a rough, coffee shop voice. Then finally, Fedelta let his guitar sing and they lost themselves in the music.

If there was one thing Fedelta worshipped more than fire, it was music.

* * *

><p>"My daughter's band is having a concert this weekend. We will be dropping in for a bit, so be sure to clear your evening," Nadil said without preamble.<p>

"Cesia is in a band?" Shydeman asked with a raised eyebrow. He had once been forced to go in place of Nadil to see her perform in her high school's talent show several years earlier; the girl didn't have a musical bone in her body, despite the fact that her father owned a small recording company that produced several big-name bands and artists.

Shydeman didn't much like Cesia, but he was forced to put up with her. She was bratty and spoiled and if Shydeman needed a reason to never have children—aside from the fact that he was completely and unapologetically gay—she was it. That, and he never wanted to attend a high school talent show again. He shuddered at the memory.

"No, but she's managing it," his boss replied to his question. "And if they're actually any good, I offered to sign them to my company."

Shydeman nearly rolled his eyes. If Cesia was asking, Nadil would probably sign them on regardless of whether or not they had any actual talent. But outwardly, he nodded and said, "I'll pencil it in."

"Good. How did the meeting with Kharl go?"

The white-haired man cringed. "As well as can be expected with Kharl."

"Any products of interest?"

"Well, they were certainly… interesting. Though I'm not sure they're quite right for our company.'

Nadil gave him a look. "How so?"

This was going to be one of those days, Shydeman thought tiredly, where despite all of his advice, Nadil will go right along with doing whatever he wants to do. Idly, he hopes that the band Cesia has taken an interest in is actually decent. He's not sure how many risky business ventures he can deal with in the same week.

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><p>"Daddy, you came!"<p>

The group watches as Cesia launches herself from Bierrez and into the arms of an older man in a suit. So this was man with the money, the owner of Demonic Music. Behind him was another man, younger and dressed a bit more casually with long white hair pulled back into a ponytail. When Cesia had finally noticed him she gave him a curt nod and then proceeded to ignore him, and he gave a long-suffering shake of his head.

Fedelta raised an eyebrow. Plus two points for the white-haired man.

Their band was backstage, getting all of their equipment ready to perform, but they had a few minutes still. The band playing at the moment still had a few more songs before their allotted stage time was up.

Bierrez was talking to the man in the suit, obviously trying to get on his good side while Cesia interrupted him every now and again to say something. Her father had an indulgent look on his face and Fedelta sighed. If they ended up getting a record deal purely because of Cesia and without any actual regard for their talent, he was going to be pissed.

He looked around for the other man; he had taken up a spot leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand. He was watching Gil double check the tuning on his bass guitar with a look Fedelta knew too well.

Fedelta grinned and crept up to lean against the wall next to him.

"You're wasting your time with Gil."

If ponytail man was surprised to hear him speak from so close by, he didn't show it. "Is that so?" he drawled, taking a sip of his beer. "Who says I was spending time on him in the first place?"

"You can't tell me you weren't watching him without ulterior motives." Fedelta nodded at Gil. "Believe me, he gets plenty of attention and plenty of offers from guys just like you who look at him like he's a piece of candy they can't wait to unwrap."

Finally, he draws an amused gaze away from Gil and towards their conversation, if it can be called that.

"So are you the protective boyfriend?" he asks.

Fedelta smirks. "Hardly. I haven't actually met the protective boyfriend, but supposedly he'll be making an appearance tonight and I hear he's got a black belt in karate and plans to end world hunger. No competing with him, at least in Gil's eyes."

He gets a low chuckle and Fedelta likes the sound of it. "My name's Shydeman," the man offers with a proffered hand.

"Fedelta," he replies, but doesn't accept the hand. "I hope you like our music," he grins and then goes to get his guitar. The other band has just finished their last song and they're finally on. He feels Shydeman's eyes on him as he walks away, and already feels a slight thrill that has nothing to do with stage jitters.

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><p>To Shydeman's surprise, the band was actually pretty good. And the members weren't exactly hard on the eyes, either. After his attention was dragged away from the dark-skinned bassist (who was now staring adoringly out at a tall, dark haired man in the crowd), he found himself focusing on the red-haired guitar player. Fedelta. Normally, he found the all-black look a bit too high-school-goth for his tastes, but on Fedelta it looked good. He could appreciate the way the slim black jeans clung to his long legs and the top contrasted well with his dark red hair.<p>

But the guitarist hadn't so much as taken more than a brief look at the crowd jumping around in front of the stage, to say nothing of searching out Shydeman. He was totally absorbed in the music, fingers flying over the strings, and again, Shydeman had to concede that they were much more talented than he had been expecting.

Nadil leaned towards him without actually looking away from the band. "I think they've got a lot of promise, don't you?" he asked with a small smile.

Shydeman knew that smile and it gave him cause to frown in thought. That wasn't the look Nadil got when he was about to indulge his daughter or even just go with one of Kharl's inventions on a whim. That was the look he got when he was planning something, and chances were it would either be totally brilliant or catastrophic. He got that look right before he made inappropriate remarks to Raseleane in full public view and hearing.

But whatever Nadil was planning, it wasn't to be put into action immediately. Instead, he finished off his rum and coke and patted Shydeman's arm. "Drinks are on me tonight. Give the band my regards and tell them we'll be in touch. I'll see you Monday." And he left.

Shydeman rolled his eyes. Of course Nadil would both leave Shydeman to do all the work before the show was even half over and also forget that he had been his ride there. No matter, he'd just have to get a taxi. And perhaps share it with a certain red head.

But he was getting ahead of himself. So far, Fedelta hadn't shown him any interest aside from steering him away from Gil, and that might have just been concern for a friend.

Shydeman ordered another drink, something stronger, and enjoyed the rest of their playing. The bass was just right, not too heavy, it didn't make him feel like he was going to vibrate off his seat. Their drums created an enthusiastic beat, a pounding that melded with the guitar's melody, but not overshadowing it like some drummers. Their songs ranged from fast-paced songs that had the crowd thrashing about like a writhing sea of bodies to dark and soulful rock ballads that made use of the singer's apparently wide vocal range. And the whole time, Fedelta had not bothered to look up.

Finally, the singer Bierrez stepped up to the microphone and used a towl to wipe away perspiration. "So how awesome are we?" he yelled arrogantly, voice hoarse from singing and screaming.

The crowd screamed back.

"I love you too," he laughed. "But unfortunately this is the last song of the night."

The crowd booed appropriately.

"I know, I know. But all good things must come to an end. So let's make this last one count, yeah?"

The crowd cheered again and there. Fedelta glanced up, looked right at Shydeman without having to even search him out, and smirked. Then the band launched into the last song and he looked away.

Fedelta had known where he was the entire time, Shydeman thought in amusement. That little tease.

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><p>He watched the smoke curl out from the glowing end of the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. It drifted gracefully upwards, twisting and turning different colors in the street lights. He hardly felt the chill of the night, as he sucked in a breath through the cigarette's filter. The smoke, hot and spicy, filled his lungs and he let it out to let that taste linger on his tongue, watch the smoke mix with his breath, visible in the cold night air.<p>

"So here you are."

Fedelta turned towards the voice, already familiar to him.

"Here I am," he agrees, watching Shydeman watch him. He knows what this is, has danced this dance before, and so he also knows how it will inevitably end. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy the game. There was no point if you didn't play the game; if you didn't play, you couldn't _win._

"Why aren't you inside, getting drunk like the rest of your bandmates? You have plenty of reason to celebrate."

He didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "Did you like our music?"

"I should think that would be obvious. We wouldn't be taking you on if we didn't like your music."

Fedelta grinned. "When I asked if you liked the music, I didn't mean you, plural. I don't care about the general opinion of some company. I meant you. What did you think of think of our music."

Shydeman blinked. Then he smiled. "I thought it was some of the best music I've heard from a new band in a very long time."

"Good." Fedelta dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it with the toe of his boot. Then he walked past Shydeman, allowing his shoulder to brush against his just slightly. "I'm going to go get drunk now, if you'd care to join?"

Shydeman followed him back inside without a word.

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><p>As it turns out, Shydeman did call a taxi, at about two in the morning. And it just so happens that he did have a red head with him, muttering cliché song lyrics and sniggering to himself in between leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along Shydeman's collar. Shydeman tried to meet his mouth with his own, but the younger man kept dodging and then returning to give his attentions to his jaw and neck. The older man groaned as Fedelta sucked on the spot behind his ear. His hands wandered up to bury themselves in surprisingly soft hair and travel down the red head's spine and then back up.<p>

Shydeman finally grabbed Fedelta's face and moved it up so he could kiss the other man properly. He felt, rather than heard, Fedelta laughing against his mouth, hot huffs of breath mixing with his own.

The twelve minute drive felt like an hour and when they finally stopped in front of Shydeman's apartment building, he threw some bills at the driver without bothering to count them out and then pulled Fedelta out of the taxi with him.

They fumbled drunkenly all the way to the elevators and up to Shydeman's floor, then in his front hallway, and finally in the bed.

When Shydeman woke up the next morning, he had a blinding hangover and was alone in his bed. On the nightstand, there was a note that said simply _It was fun. See you around._

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><p>To be continued?<p> 


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